


The Discipline of Princess Edelgard Bitchcakes von Conquershit

by Letterblade



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Chastity Device, F/F, Figging, Gags, Humiliation, Punishment, Sexy Revenge Fantasies, Spanking, Undernegotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: Edelgard puts Hilda to work.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 114
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	The Discipline of Princess Edelgard Bitchcakes von Conquershit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme prompter who had a mighty need for "some Hildelgard where Edelgard punishes Hilda for being a spoiled brat and teaches her that she cant always get whatever she wants, preferably through humiliation, spanking and orgasm control." Sure they’re on the same side of the war somehow, because this is 100% Porn Logic. Consensual but undernegotiated; overall kind of a hatesexy they're-trying-to-one-up-each-other dynamic.

Oooooooh, Hilda is going to _get her_ after this.  
  
Look, all Princess Edelgard Bitchcakes von Conquershit had told her was that she was going to get punished and to go find her old school uniform, which, hello, hot? Especially since the uniform's just a little tight these days—it’s not like she’s gotten squishy or anything, but all the stupid ax-waving has made her muscly. Hilda hadn’t figured it would be a walk in the park, _obviously_ , Edelgard can be _mean_ , but she knows how this sort of thing goes, right? Bend over a desk, pull down the panties because you’ve been _bad_ , a little slap or tickle, get railed. That’s how a _normal_ person would do this. But _no_ , Edelgard has to go and make this about her not _working_ hard enough and be _actually cruel_.  
  
The nice comfy little rope harness around her shoulders, framing her boobs all super-cute and holding her arms snug behind her, had lured her into a false sense of security, because Edelgard had been almost _gentle_ about it. And then she’d buckled on this super-uncomfy high leather collar that barely let her move her head—like she doesn’t have perfect posture already, ugh, really? And _then_ she’d undone her front buttons and yanked her clothing around and left her boobs hanging out squished every which-way with her nips jammed up right against the edges of her blouse, which, okay, still hot, and she’d fussed about it a little too long with her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. And maybe Hilda shouldn’t have pointed out how cute that was, but okay, it's _her_ , she was probably already planning to stuff her panties in her mouth.  
  
Because yeah, she’d pulled down Hilda's panties, told her she’d been bad, stuffed them in her mouth—and made her dust the floor with them.  
  
It had been _absolute murder_ on her thighs, especially with the stupid collar, and she was actually quivering by the time Edelgard decided she was done, quivering like she hadn’t since Lorenz had stopped doing all her fighting for her. And she should have just been grumpy and bone-dry and ready to call it off and go wash the fucking _floor dust_ out of her nose and pigtails, but it was stupid sexy Edelgard with her stupid sexy legs pacing around her, crisply critiquing her face-floor-dusting technique and trailing a finger up her bare ass-up cunt juuuust enough to tease her along.  
  
She was _so_ going to get her back, she thought. She was going to fist the _fuck_ out of that uptight bitch. She was going to make her come so hard she _begged_ for mercy. _Ugh._ But when Edelgard finally said that she’d had long enough to dust the floor, it was over, right?  
  
_No_ , because then she had to go and say she _should_ have been able to get her whole damn room in that time—with her _face_ shuffling on her _knees_ in that _collar_ , which is totally unfair!—and make it sound like she was _disappointed_. And she hadn’t taken her panties out of her mouth yet, so she couldn’t talk back, and she was so angry she wanted to cry, but she was still wet.  
  
Wet enough that Edelgard can shove something right up there.  
  
She leaves her just kneeling there, seething and wondering if she even _has_ a dildo big enough to count as payback. Maybe her two biggest, one in each hole. Edelgard paces about, tidying things, maybe getting something ready behind her back, whatever—Hilda is mostly just trying to catch her breath, and also wondering what the odd little egg-shaped thing in her is, and then—  
  
Then it starts burning.  
  
“Raw ginger,” Edelgard says, and latches another line of rope through the back of her harness, runs it between her legs, and _yanks_ it painfully tight to tie up front. There might be a few knots on there? It’s _super_ uncomfy. “It will burn for a time, and the juices might have an interesting side effect when mixed with yours.” Okay, now Hilda is thinking of _tying_ her two biggest dildos into Edelgard and making her do all her stupid ax training like that while she sunbathed=s and—okay, Edelgard can’t be ax training _and_ feeding her grapes in a skimpy maid dress at the same time, but she can in her revenge brain. Two Edelgards. Double the revenge.  
  
The _interesting side effect_ , apparently, is that it makes her unbearably tinglingly _horny_. She’s whining and wiggling against the rope by the time Edelgard deigns to circle back around. Thighs shaking, fighting the red-hot churning knot of _I-disappointed-her_ in her gut, because why should she care if she disappoints _her?_ Why does it matter if _she_ thinks she isn’t working hard enough? Fuck, Hilda’s angry enough to spit tacks and she still can’t promise that she won’t just beg for an orgasm the moment Edelgard takes her panties out of her mouth.  
  
But she doesn’t even get that much. “Thirty-three strokes of my hand,” Edelgard says. “One for each square foot of the floor you didn’t get clean.” Hilda wondered if she was counting the ones under the furniture, the unfair bitch. “I’m willing to grant you one comfort, but it will cost you ten more strokes.”  
  
Hilda makes a questioning noise, and hopes it’s also a very sexy whine, because Macuil’s tits, does she need to _come!_  
  
“Your legs seem quite tired. I will allow you on the bed. Do you want that?”  
  
_On the bed._ For ten more strokes. Damn it, when is she going to _fuck_ her? Hilda isn’t sure whether the garbled noise she makes is rage or despair. Her eyes are prickling, damn it.  
  
“Do you want that?”  
  
She nods, reluctant and burning.  
  
Edelgard has to help her up with a strong hand in the harness, and it should feel like a kindness, but it just makes her cheeks flame for some reason. She collapses into the mattress with a groan, and it takes Edelgard a lot of clipped orders and threats to increase the strokes before she drags herself into the requested position—still face-down ass-up, and Edelgard clips a leash from that awful collar to the headboard just to be mean.  
  
Edelgard spanks _hard_. Which isn’t news. Halfway through forty-three, Hilda’s straight-up crying, like a little for _real_ , and her cunt is on _fire_ , and by the time she finishes her count and pulls the sodden dusty wad of her once _very cute_ panties out of her mouth, she breaks right out begging. “Please let me come please anything fuck me please I need to, I need to—”  
  
Nonsense. Just like that.  
  
“Please me enough and I’ll allow it. But you had best do better at that than you have with the rest.”  
  
Fuck, Hilda is almost _grateful_ once Edelgard gets her rolled over, finally unbuckles the collar as one circumstantial kindness, and sits on her face. The stupid ginger is driving her nuts, and at least she vent her feelings with every trick she knows on Edelgard’s cunt instead of dumb helpless begging. Spread her out up on the balcony where _everyone_ can hear and make her scream with the pleasure she never lets herself feel, she thinks dimly, but mostly she can’t even _think_ anymore.  
  
She does her goddessdamn best. Edelgard, at least, comes hard enough to squirt all over her chin, and she’s a soggy mess between the drool and the crying and the come and the _floor_ , and she begs so hard she can barely understand what she’s saying.  
  
“Mm,” Edelgard says, catching her breath. “I’ll consider it.”  
  
“ _Pleeaaaaase_ please please please, just one, come on, I gave you like five, I gave you a really good one, I’ll call you Emperor in bed for a week, pleaaase…”  
  
Her fingers drift down. Untying the mean crotch rope, pulling it away soggy. She’s wiggling _something_ around down there, tucking something under Hilda’s butt, and she can’t see what it is, and she barely fucking cares because there’s fingers dipping inside her, pulling out that stupid bit of ginger. Teasing up around her clit, and she nearly comes right then, even if it usually takes some work.  
  
But then Edelgard _stops._  
  
Something folds up over Hilda’s cunt, pulls tight. Some sort of—strap?  
  
“In time,” Edelgard says, crisp as if she hadn’t just come herself, and a strap closes around her waist too. Very snug.  
  
Then there’s the click of a lock.  
  
“Did—did you just—” Hilda might be hyperventilating, she isn't sure.  
  
Edelgard pats the leather over her cunt. “Put a chastity belt on you? Of course. Otherwise you’ll be off playing with yourself the moment I let you go, and I can’t have that. There’s work to do.”  
  
“Fu—fuuuuuh—” She feels like her _tongue_ has stopped working, she’s so mad. Her! Her _tongue!_ Can Claude pick locks? He knows all sorts of weird stuff. Does she _want_ Claude picking this lock? “Fuck _you!!!_ ”  
  
“Wipe your face when I’m done with you,” Edelgard says briskly, and pulls loose the first knot of her harness. “It’s time for war council.”  
  
_Four fucking saints and Seiros on a pegasus_ , Hilda is going to _kill her_. Kill her dead with orgasms, the goddessdamned _bitch_. It’s going to be _so_ much _work._

**Author's Note:**

> Claude: I mean, I can try, but...look, okay, I fooled around with it once, but poisons are more my thing. You could ask Ignatz? He just classed into assassin.
> 
> Hilda: *puts head between knees and wails*
> 
> I [tweet](https://twitter.com/letterblade)


End file.
